


2,000 Miles

by lil_missb



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Post Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_missb/pseuds/lil_missb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two thousand miles and more ghosts than that to haunt them. The open road is a great place for two people to bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anywhere But Here

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm posting all my old work on my AO3 account. This fic will probably never be finished but I'm proud of it anyway. _FMA does not belong to me and I make no profit from any of these tales. Any further archiving of my fiction is strictly prohibited unless cleared by me._

**1\. Anywhere But Here**

 

 

“I need to go.”

 

It was too quiet with just the two of them and his voice cut sharply through the silence. Looking up, she noticed that he had not touched his steak.

 

“Where?”

 

“Anywhere but here.”

 

“I understand. And I’m coming with you.”

 

They left the dirty dishes in the sink as they packed.

 

He waited impatiently at her door as she hurriedly shoved clothing into an unused suitcase. His rested by his feet; he was so much more experienced at this. Occasionally he would sigh and tell her that she didn’t need something she was about to throw into her bag, which only made her bumble along more, afraid that he would get fed up and leave without her.

 

How long had Edward wanted to leave? Since Al? Since Granny? Wasn’t she reason enough to stay?

 

Walking downstairs, she turned out all the lights and barely had time to leave a note in the window for her customers – even though there had only been a couple since the funeral. Edward told her that she could call someone tomorrow and make arrangements. She tried asking if he knew where he was going, but all she got was a stiff back as he strode determinedly out the door.

 

 

<+>

 

 

He remembers it being a lot easier to just get up and go.

 

It was nearly dawn by the time they pushed the car out and got on the road. It would have been sooner but Ed had refused to take the train. Doing so would mean that he’d have to decide on a destination. Besides, every train car looked the same and held too many memories.

 

It was more convenient to just drive.

 

Winry had taken hours putting the finishing touches on her automobile. She had spent years gathering the parts for the car and putting them together. It was just a few days ago that they had taken it out for a test drive. He thought it extremely lucky that she had such a hobby and tells her so.

 

“Don’t you have a hobby?”

 

He tells her no. There were no hobbies to keep him busy during the day.  No books either. They all burned when he was eleven. The only volume he had left were his written notes from his years journeying.

 

“Why don’t you buy more? You have the money.”

 

It was true. Money hadn’t been an issue after he left the military. On the days they did venture into the small line of shops that were called a town in Resembool, as Winry hassled with the shop keepers he would walk a few stores down and wander aimlessly around the bookstore. Nothing ever caught his eye, not even the alchemy section.

 

“Why not?”

 

“It just doesn’t seem the same since…” He trails off and moves his elbow to the window. “I still have my Al reflex.” She looks over from the driver’s side and he explains. “It’s like, every time I open a book, I immediately want to show Alphonse. Just to talk with him about what I read or make fun of how simple it is.”

 

She looks away, out into the bleakness that he was expecting to turn into beautiful sunrise any minute now. “I get the same way sometimes.”

 

This time it is his head that turns.

 

“Sometimes when I am making an arm or just doing anything involving a wrench, I get this urge to find my Granny, to ask her advice or just brag.”

 

He has nothing to say to that. No words to comfort her and assure her that their mutual ghosts bound them together in grief. All he can think to do was curl up in the passenger side and pretend to sleep.

 

The road out of Resembool is long and lonely, but with the silence of being wrapped in grief, it can feel like forever.

 


	2. Tropism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winry and Ed head North to East City.

**2\. Tropism**

The sun was setting on the first day of their trip and Winry had never felt sorer. Ed had offered to drive but she refused, calling him out on the fact that he didn’t know how.

 

He had pretended to sleep for most of the afternoon. She found it reassuring that even though they had grown apart, she could still tell when he was really sleeping.

 

Frowning, she looks over to the dour boy next to her and wonders where all these barriers came from.

 

She tries to think of something to say, just so the sound of gravel hitting the side of the car isn’t the only thing she hears.

 

“You know what I wonder sometimes?” It sounds awkward coming out of the blue and hanging out in the quiet, but it has the desired effect. The silence isn’t so deafening anymore.

 

Ed turns his head in a way to imply curiosity.  He does that a lot; letting his body speak for him. In the first few days he didn’t say anything at all or even make eye contact. Granny had pulled him out of it though. She had a way with people that Winry just couldn’t accurately reproduce.

 

“Sometimes I wonder what my parents would think about my life, you know, if they could see me now.”

 

Edward just looks at her and she wonders if he ever thinks about the same thing. She doesn’t wonder long and asks him outright. At that moment she thinks that she’s never seen him look more guilt-ridden and desolate.

 

“I try not to,” he looks down, hiding his eyes and feelings from her under the pretense of picking at the calluses on his hands, “She’d only cry if she knew.”

 

<+>

 

A few lights glow in the dusk, distinguishing the small town from the miles of dirt roads and forests. Winry tells him that they need to stop for the night and pulls the car into a small, single-pump gas station. The thought crosses his mind that he could transmute gas with just a few basic ingredients but he doesn’t offer.

 

He doesn’t have the energy to do it anyway. He never seems to have the energy these days. He feels so lethargic.

 

Getting out of the car, she asks him for money and he wordlessly hands over all his cash. She can handle the finances, he doesn’t care.  For a second she stares at him through the open car door. He looks away and hears the door slam. Whatever she had wanted to say she had obviously decided against it. 

 

The whole car rattles as she fiddles with the cap and spout, clearly upset.  His legs start to cramp and he pulls the car door open. Movement is blissful agony as his muscles protest and bones pop.  He feels old.

 

Without a word, he wanders to the rickety old building. A large painted sign above reads Gatewood’s Gas and Convenience Items. Moths gather around the same lights that had drawn them in as well. There is a newsstand inside and he glances over the dates on each: July 15, 1918. They are all a week old.

 

He asks the clerk for a restroom and hates the sound of his voice. He hardly uses it anymore. He feels so disconnected.

 

Using the restroom, he emerges in time to find Winry paying. She turns to him, any traces of distress gone. He’ll never understand her mood swings.

 

She tells him that there is an inn a few miles down the road. She makes it sound like the best news she’s heard in months. The sad part is that it’s true. He could use a good night’s sleep in a real bed. He feels so tired.

 

<+>

 

The inn is further down the road than the clerk had led her to believe.  She finds herself pining for the glow of artificial light more and more with each mile they drive. She should have used the restroom back at the gas station.

 

Finally she sees lights in the distance and pushes the car as fast as it will go. The town is bigger than she thought it would be. One main street is cluttered with stores. Spotting the inn, she searches for a place to park. It is not a modern town and horses are still hitched up outside. A small sign nailed to a supporting post on the front of the building advertises a place for automobiles to park in the back and she quickly heads there.

 

A few men cluster around a table inside. Loud and rowdy, they laugh and drink, evidently celebrating the end of a long work day. They are all farmers, she can tell by the dirt covering their blue overalls. The man behind the counter looks the type as well, but one look at the sleeve hanging empty at his side lets her know what put an end to his days in the field.

 

Ed is silent as she handles the registration. When the inn keeper asks her ‘one room or two,’ she checks their cash and decides on one. Who knows how long or how far they will go. She will need to conserve.

 

She leads them upstairs to the room, Ed obediently carrying their bags.  The door squeaks open and she finds herself a bit alarmed at the sight of a single bed. It had been so long since the last time they had shared a bed – not since they were eight – and she wonders if it would be weird now that she is eighteen.

 

Her companion doesn’t seem concerned and sets their bags near the room’s battered old dresser.  That task complete, he sits on the bed and falls back, his eyes closing as the soft mattress folds around his upper body.

 

“I think I saw a washroom down the hall. Did you want to use it first?”

 

His eyes don’t open and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “Nope. You go ahead.”

 

It’s the most normal he’s sounded all day and she happily sets to the task of gathering her bathroom items and a change of clothes. She’s at the door when the question crosses her mind.

 

“Ed, do you know where we’re going yet?”

 

She knows he hasn’t fallen asleep but he still doesn’t answer. His eyes open though and he frowns up at the ceiling.

 

“If we keep going north, we’ll reach East City in a day.” She supplies, really doubting that to be the destination he has in mind.

 

He pulls himself up slowly, as if gravity is too much of a foe. “That sounds fine.”

 

Hairs are sticking out of his pony tail and his eyes are dark underneath. He yawns and rubs at a sore spot on his shoulder. She wants to pursue the subject more but doesn’t feel like starting a fight.  Dropping it, she turns and walks through the door.

 

Under the warm spray of the shower, she regrets her decision. A fight with Edward would be a break in the monotone existence he held himself in these days.  Gone was the fiery and blazing blond boy. A stranger had taken his place, one who never laughed at his own jokes or even made them anymore, one who never boasted about his intelligence, or dazzled others with stories of his adventures.

 

It was a long shot, but she figures that if they were going to be traveling together for a while, there may be an opportunity to pick a fight with him. She was good at that sort of thing. Maybe she could even get him mad enough to yell. It probably wasn’t the best plan, but she figures that feeling anger was better than feeling nothing at all.

 

The air is cold when she steps out of the shower. The warm water had helped loosen her muscles and she feels more than ready for bed. Ed is already fully asleep on the bed when she enters and she is pleased to see that he has moved over enough to allow her room next to him.

 

Crawling in, she is careful not to touch him and lies on her back. Surprisingly, Ed rolls over and an arm is flung around her middle. Stiff backed, she turns her head to see that he is still completely asleep.

 

Edward was never a very touchy-feely person, but since he came back, she can’t so much as take his arm without him flinching or pulling away. His right arm especially.  ‘A gift he didn’t deserve,’ he had said in a voice so low and hoarse that she didn’t fully understand what he said until he lowered his head and walked away from his brother’s grave.

 

She smiles; it seems that in his sleep he is able to let go of the afflictions that plague him.

 


	3. Familiar Territory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Winry arrive in East City. There they rest for a night and Edward decides that he wants to go see Izumi.

3\.  **Familiar** **Territory**

 

 

_”Hey, Al. What’s the first thing you want to do when you get your body back?” Ed turns to the bed next to him, the conversation eerily mirroring one they’d had in the past. Al’s armor clanks as he looks over to his older brother, and Ed reminds himself that by tomorrow night, he’d be able to stare into his brother’s bronze eyes._

_“I want to go swimming!”_

_~_

_The yellow light from the transmutation illuminates the living room of the Rockbell house. In the middle, Ed can barely make out his brother’s armor form. Behind him, he knows Granny and Winry are waiting anxiously. He dares not look back._

_Suddenly, he sees the gate opening, black hands reaching for him and his brother. The light becomes red as the power leaches from the stone. He knows what he wants, and pushes forward. He sees an outline in the distance - would recognize it anywhere - and reaches out for it. The body is in his grasp and all he needs is to attach the soul. More energy is needed, and he considers overcompensation, using all the stone to make sure it is perfect. The equations balance, the body, mind, and soul are complete and the stone is still giving._

_Al stands, flesh, in front of him in the place that isn’t really a place at all. A promise filters through his mind, and another equation is formed. Al smiles, seemingly able to read his thoughts in this void, or perhaps that’s always been the case. Together, they turn to the gate, and the hands begin to dissolve the steel that substitute Edward’s limbs._

_~_

_The air is cool and the sky is clear as Ed practices the drills Sensei taught him. His arm is getting stronger and he is finally able to stand for long enough to complete a whole set. It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. He and his brother are both flesh again, and he’s even going though a growth spurt, gaining two inches in the past three months._

_With a twinge of exasperation, he wonders what is keeping his brother from joining him. Ed had woken him nearly half an hour ago. He hopes he hasn’t gone back to sleep. Recently, Al had acquired a fondness for sleeping in. With a rueful smile and a shake of his head, Ed headed into the house to rouse his brother once more._

_~_

_Al is sleeping again. Granny says it’s normal for boys his age to sleep a lot. Ed is still worried. Even though his brother sleeps all night and for most of the day, there are still deep circles under his eyes when he wakes._

_~_

_The doctor said that Al needs rest and fresh air, so Granny gives Ed a wheelchair and tells him to take Al out and not to come back for a couple hours. He pushes him down the dirt roads to the riverbank. The gravel makes the ride a bit jerky, but Ed is mostly able to keep it straight. He is in good shape and Al doesn’t weigh too much anymore._

_~_

 

_Ed has a perfectly timed internal clock now. Every hour he wakes, walks to the other side of the room, and checks for Al’s pulse._

_~_

_Ed doesn’t even sleep anymore. His existence is defined by the same four walls, relying on Winry to bring him food for Al and books for research._

_~_

_Sleep cannot be fought much longer and eventually, Ed passes out at the desk next to Al’s bed, his cheek resting on the open book. When he wakes, Al is cold._

_The first thought that runs through his mind is, ‘I didn’t get to say goodbye.’ </i>_

 

 

 

Winry’s body is warm next to his and he carefully extracts himself from the bed. It is still grey outside the window, the color only deepening the sadness his dreams left him to wake in.

The floor is cool to the touch and goose bumps break out over his skin. Not bothering to shower, Ed strolls out the door wearing the same wrinkled clothes he had on the night before. On the staircase, he pulls the band out of his hair and fixes the locks in a low ponytail. The lobby is empty, and the sounds of a waking city draw him outside.

 

The sky rapidly becomes brighter as the sun rises fully in the east, casting a pale yellow glow along the morning fog that still clings to the main street; the last vestiges of sleep yet to be shaken off in a town that was only beginning to wake. Edward found himself walking down this street, observing people in their everyday morning routines.

 

Ed had always found it odd that one could chart the progression of society just by taking a drive from one small village to one of Amestris’ five main cities. Gatewood was a mid-point on that evolutionary chart, viewed in perfect chronological order on the road from Resembool to East City. The town was a perfect blend of old world and new.

 

Street vendors were situated in the spaces left between shops. The vendors leisurely arranged merchandise under the colorful awnings while the shop keepers swept the front stoop and unlocked glass doors with cheery bells placed atop to announce the arrival of customers. Trucks were started and wagons hitched to make deliveries of milk, bread, and grains to homes and businesses alike.

 

Outside a mill along the edge of town, Ed sees an old man struggling with sacks of grain. His wagon is parked to the side of the building, a grey Clydesdale hitched and standing patiently in front for its owner to finish making his delivery. The man is rugged; thin grey hair and stubble on his face, wearing blue jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off. He wore a glove on his right hand and in the shadow of the building; Ed saw grey steel for his left arm.

 

As Ed approaches, the man stops what he is doing to rub at his left shoulder. Ed understands why, as do only those who have auto-mail can, (except maybe for those who make it) how hard changes in the weather were on the joints. Summers in the east were not the picnic one would think they’d be, especially when temperatures would rocket up to over one-hundred degrees in the day before plummeting back down for the night.

 

“Need some help?”

 

The man looks up, right in the middle of picking up another sack, “Sure.”

 

Walking to the back of the wagon, Ed grabs a grain sack and pulls it to the edge. Picking it up, he stacks it neatly atop the others along the mill’s side entrance.

 

“You a tourist, boy?” The old man asks.

 

“Yeah.” Ed grunts, pulling a sack onto his shoulder. The bags had to weigh about 75 pounds.

 

“We don’t get too many of those. Not a lot to see in Gatewood, unless ya got a thing for cows.”

 

“I’m just passing through.”

 

“Figures, besides, if you were a new arrival, I would’ve already heard about it. My granddaughter works at the general store over yonder. Talk to ‘er every morning. I always get the skinny whenever a handsome young man moves to town.”

 

“Uh….”The old man laughs at the uncomfortable look on Edward’s face.

 

Eventually, they find a workable rhythm. The old man would pull the bags to the edge of the wagon; Ed would then throw them over his shoulder and stack them on the ground.

 

“Did ya’ come here alone?”

 

“No.” Ed answers, avoiding the man’s eyes.

 

“You here with your family? On yer honeymoon?”

 

“No, just with my mec- friend.” He barely stops the term mechanic from escaping his lips before remembering that he had no more need for Winry’s mechanical abilities on his person. The excuse just came naturally.

 

“Oh. Where are you two going?”

 

Ed was really beginning to regret helping the nosey old man. “East City.” He replied.

 

Finally, the old man begins to tire of asking questions and receiving only vague answers. The two work on in silence, and in time, the cart is empty.

 

The old man climbs atop the wagon and take the reins in his hands. Before heading off, he expresses his thanks to Ed.

 

“Not a problem. I was looking for a way to kill some time anyway.” Ed replied.

 

“You’ve gotta funny way of killin’ time, boy. Gots to be something better to do than help an old geezer, like me, with only one arm.”

 

Ed shrugs, finding nothing wrong with being a Good Samaritan, “How long have you had your auto-mail?”

 

“Somthin’ round twenty years. Lost it in an accident. My horse threw me one day while ridin’ beside a wagon. It spooked the two at the rein and when I fell, they took straight off. Only problem was, as I landed my arm somehow got caught in the spokes of the wheel. I’ll spare you the gruesome details; you can imagine it well enough on your own.”

 

Sighing, the man settles himself down in his seat, as if committing himself to reveal the secrets of the world or the epic story of his origins to this young man.

 

“’tween you an me, I ain’t as old as I look. It’s the work that’s made me rugged, and the ‘mail that’s made me arthritic. Ideally, I should go on and get me something newer and more light weight. Shit, I ain’t had any maintenance in years. But, I can’t afford it. In the end, I just hafta live with it. Still, you never stop yearnin’ for your own flesh and blood, ya know?”

 

Ed wants to say that yes, he understands, more than the old man would ever know. But he know that the man would look at his two flesh hands and legs and view his words as cursory.  Instead, he says nothing, just swallows a lump of unexpected emotion and bids the man farewell.

 

Watching the wagon cart off, Edward feels his body begin to cool as the morning air hits his perspiring skin.

 

With a turn, Ed heads back to the hotel to take a shower.

 

<+>

 

She awakes to find the space next to her vacant and grown cold. In a panic, she checks to see if Ed’s suitcase was still there. It is.

 

Dressing quickly, she take the steps two at a time and finds Ed seated at a table over-looking the street. His wet hair is pulled back and his clothes are clean and unwrinkled. He looks strikingly better than he did last night.

 

As she sits down, he looks up. “I ordered you eggs.”

 

“Scrambled?”

 

He nods curtly and she proceeds to ask the usual set of questions. How did you sleep? Fine. You? Good.

 

That conversation ends quickly enough and they are silent until their food arrives. She takes the time to study her surroundings. It’s still early, but the sky is clear and sun streams in brightly though the inn’s many windows. Only a few guests sit quietly at the wooden tables and the only noise is the sound of the kitchen staff at work. Outside, a few of Gatewood’s vendors have begun pedaling their wares to the dozen or so residents on the street.

 

“It’s a good day for driving, huh?”

 

Ed hums in agreement but doesn’t look away from the window.

 

“Did you want to leave after breakfast or is there someplace you want to go?”

 

“I’m already packed up.” He says and she assumes that he means to leave after they eat.

 

<+>

 

Their food comes and at first sight Ed is even less hungry. Nevertheless, he chokes down the runny eggs just so he won’t have to deal with Winry’s inevitable concern.

 

After breakfast, he packs up her things while she showers.  He hopes that she takes it as a favor instead of a sign of his impatience.  Luckily, she doesn’t say anything when she returns and they are on the road before the sun has peaked.

 

He loses track of time as familiar towns pass by. He can’t wait to get past all this familiar territory. They pass the town Marcoh hid in and the town where he met the old soldier who talked of dreams. He doesn’t really want to go to East City, but knows that Winry won’t be able to drive through the night.

 

<+>

 

They are driving through a stretch of open road, nearly identical to everything they’ve seen thus far except for different shapes of trees and types of fences, when she speaks again.

 

“Ed, about before…I don’t think your mother would be disappointed in you if she could see you now.”

 

“Why would you say that?” His voice is tired and drags through the words like feet through mud.

 

“Well, you did the best you could with what you had, even though it wasn’t much.”

 

“The only reason it wasn’t much is because I ruined everything else.”

 

She hates that self-pitying tone of voice and snippily tells him to stop, just get over it and deal.

 

It’s gone in an instant and he looks like he may strike her. Sadly, she can’t tell if this new Edward will or won’t. The old Edward wouldn’t. The tension lasts for only a moment and his features melt back to their familiar uninterested expression.

 

“Winry, what are you doing?” He turns away again, “You know better than anyone that it doesn’t work that way.”

 

Guiltily, she stares ahead, “I know. I’m sorry. I just thought that if you started feeling again, you’d get better.”

 

“So you decided to piss me off?”

 

“Well, it’s the only thing I’m good at.” Ed doesn’t say anything. “Look, I’m sorry. I just thought that it was better you feel angry than empty.”

 

<+>

 

The rest of the ride is made in silence, as usual, and they arrive in East City sooner than expected. The sun is just beginning to set when he directs her to a small hotel on the outskirts of the city, far enough away from the slums to make Winry feel secure.

 

Again they get a single room and again there is only one bed. Winry wants to explore the city and Ed escorts her around the block. He is reluctant to head all the way in town. Danger lies in his memories there.  She seems content just to browse the shops around the hotel though.

 

They eat a small supper at a corner restaurant and she seems happy looking out into the lighted streets. It’s not very late, but they decide to turn in once they get back to the hotel.

 

Lying together, back to back in the bed, Winry asks him: “Where do you want to go tomorrow? Did you want to continue on to Central?”

 

“No. I think…maybe Dublith.”

 

“Okay.” Her voice is soft and the bed shifts as she tries to find a comfortable position. “Tomorrow head out to see Izumi.”

 

He lies awake for a good twenty minutes until he is sure she is sound asleep. Rolling to his side, he throws an arm around her middle and wraps his body around hers.

 

He is asleep in seconds.

 


	4. Little Things (A Break in the Sky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed feels philosophical and Winry finds a way to reconnect with her oldest friend.

**4\. Little Things (A Break in the Sky)**

 

 

Harsh yellow rays escape through cracks in the curtains. One closed eye twitches, waking Winry fully. The blonde rolls away from the window, and with a groan, notices that Ed has already been up. She puts a hand to her forehead, covering her eyes against the sun as she turns back around.  A piece of paper rests on the nightstand and she thinks that at least this time he left a note.

 

_Winry,_

_I had to run out for a moment. Meet me for lunch at noon. Same place we ate yesterday._

_Ed_

 

Winry looks over to the clock on the far wall and quickly scrambles to get dressed.

 

<+>

 

Not much has really changed in East City, Edward thinks as he strolls down one of the busier side streets. It is still as dry as ever.

 

Edward turns right at the next intersection and heads for the center of town. Never looking up once, he lets his feet lead the way from memory. They stop him at the gates of Eastern Headquarters. As usual, the base is very busy. Dozens of nameless faces pass behind the gates. Mustang and his subordinates had been transferred to Central long ago.

 

The last time Ed had talked to The Bastard was when he turned in his resignation two years ago. Mustang had been at the funeral but Ed had barely said two words to anybody then. Briefly, Ed wonders if he is still trying to become Fuhrer.

 

He decides that this place holds no sway over him anymore and leaves. Two blocks down and three over is a book shop that he and Al used to frequent. He hesitates before going in, but decides that a bit of aching memory is acceptable in exchange for curing the boredom of a long journey. Besides, if his nose is in a book he can avoid the sympathetic looks of his traveling companion.

 

The bell rings as he enters and a young girl sitting behind the counter looks up. He doesn’t recognize her. Habit leads him to the Alchemy section and he listlessly browses the titles for something new, something that will re-light the spark inside him that died when his brother did.  The titles are familiar. He has read more than half of these books and the rest are less than intriguing. He really doesn’t care about the industrial application of alchemically altered steel.

 

The self-help section holds no answers, either. No one is writing books on how to cope if your brother suffers a long and painful death after you restore his body and your limbs with a mystical art. 

 

In the biography section he flips through a few memoirs filled with the sentiments of people who led lives with only a minimal amount of melodrama. Sighing, Ed puts down the memoirs of a retired author. The longer he lives, the more he comes to realize that his life is not normal.

 

Stepping around to the other side of the shelves, he begins browsing the fiction aisle. The titles and authors are so foreign to him they may as well have been in another language. Fairy tales were a pleasure that he’d stopped indulging in when his mother got sick. After that, Flamel took up the place of the Brother’s Grimm, and alchemic equations and formulas became his fairy princesses and enchanted swords.

 

He picks up a ruby colored, hard covered volume and flips to the middle of the book. Intrigued, his eyes scan the page, seeing more than words. He sees a chance to escape from the realities of a harsh world and a cruel science that at times masquerades as magic.  He closes the book and notices a clock on the wall to his left. The time to meet Winry is drawing near.  He asks the shop-keeper what her favorite fiction story is and purchases it along with the volume he first picked up.

 

On the way back, his fingers caress the book’s spine and he thinks about the nature of dreams. He had spent six years in pursuit of one insurmountable dream after another and each one only ever ended in ruin. <i> _’A dream was never really a dream if it comes true’_ </i>; wasn’t that what the old soldier had said to him? Ed didn’t get it then but he does now.

 

Dreams don’t come true, at least, not how you imagine them. They can’t, because it’s not the nature of the world to be perfect, and what is a dream but a person’s ideal? For a while he had attained at least one of his dreams. He’d restored Al and even himself. But the circle is cruel and Al had been sick even before he’d lost his body.

 

He thinks of Mustang then, and Ed wants to tell him -<i> _warn him_ </i>\- that even if he is crowned King the story doesn’t end with a happily ever after. There’d still be wars, unrest, and poverty. Nations would seek to gain what others had and he would always need eyes to watch his back. He wonders if Mustang, long experienced adult that he is, knows this already. Maybe it is a rite of passage to learn these things. Maybe it is an experience gained only by those who wore themselves down to a cynical nub chasing after arduous ideals.

 

Either way, he feels a pang of pity and camaraderie for his commanding officer’s possible future - or past - revelation.

 

<+>

 

Edward is already waiting at a booth in the back by the time Winry walks in. Two mugs of hot coffee sit on the table in front of him.

 

“Where’d you go this morning?” She asks as she slides into a seat across from him.

 

“Out,” he says, not looking up from the menu he is holding.

 

Taking a drink of her coffee, Winry notices that he is dressed in dull brown slacks and a white button down shirt. Come to think of it, that was all his attire really consisted of lately. Winry studies him thoroughly, something she hasn’t done in two years.

 

The first time was almost four years after he had received his certification. Back then, as the years passed on without a visit, she had thought that it would take nothing short of the total annihilation of his mechanical limbs to get him to come home. Turned out she was right. She remembers that he hadn’t looked all that different then when he was twelve. He had the same clothes, same hair style, and he looked about the same height. There were little differences though. Granny had noticed that he had indeed grown an inch, his face was a bit thinner, his jaw and shoulders more wide. His voice too, was just a little deeper than she had remembered.

 

This time though, there were more differences for Winry to notice, and one didn’t need to look hard to see them. He was eighteen now, and gone was the black and red coat.  She missed it. His new clothes were so drab, unfit for the colorful personality that he once exhibited.  Whites and washed out browns combined to create the bulk of his wardrobe. His hair too - often pulled back into ponytails or simply left lying flat - made him look much older. She kind of likes that change.

 

A waitress comes and takes their order. They both choose the lunch specials and as the woman walks away, Winry watches the play of light upon Ed’s face.

 

His countenance is perpetually down turned, creating deep lines around his mouth and brow. There are deep bags under his eyes from months of little sleep. His skin is much paler and she can see where he had cut himself shaving. He is still a little unsteady with his hands.

 

She finds it peculiar that he could learn to walk and move in auto-mail in a year, but it had been two since he got his own arm and leg back and he was still having problems with finer motor skills. Though, in a way, it made sense. The second time his body was altered, he hadn’t had such a compelling reason to expend so much drive.

 

The food arrives and their waitress, an old woman with deep brown eyes, refills their coffee cups.

 

“Do you remember drinking coffee at my house?” 

 

Ed gives her a strange look as he chews on a bite of sandwich, “We drank a lot of coffee at your house.” He mumbles through tomato and lettuce.

 

“No, I mean,” Winry sighs. It is so hard to get her thoughts out when she has so many. Ed is right, they did drink a lot of coffee those times when they pulled all-niters working on his auto-mail or researching alchemy to find a cure for Al. “Remember when we were little, your mom would visit Granny and when they went to the sitting room we’d steal cups of coffee.”

 

Ed bows his head and the corners of his lips turn up at the memory. “Yeah, we all thought we were so grown up, asking each other how many sugars we’d like.”

 

Winry giggles, “We had to put so much sugar in just to finish a cup.” Both thinking the same thing, they look to their own cups in various stages of emptiness. It was an acquired taste. “You still put in too much sugar.”

 

“I do not. Al puts in way more than I do.” The jovial mood falls like a bird from the sky and she can see Ed begin to beat himself up behind his golden eyes.

 

“Ed, it’s not your-”

 

Before she can finish Ed slams his palm on the table, rattling the dishes, abruptly stands and storms away.

 

With a napkin she begins to mop up the small drops of coffee that had escaped her cup at Ed’s outburst.  Well, she had gotten what she wanted, only unintentionally. Ed was pissed now.

 

Maybe it was best if she didn’t try to reminisce with Edward right now, even about something as small as coffee. She understands where his thoughts are. After all, the image of a newly restored Al sitting in bed, holding a mug of coffee and trying to be strong is forever burned into her mind.

 

<+>

 

Moving on automatic, Ed packs up their suitcases and tries to ignore the stinging behind his eyes. Pajamas and underwear are thrown into bags without him caring if he matches the clothes to their owner’s suitcase. Too soon, the bags are packed and he is left standing in the middle of the room, fists clenching, body trembling, needing to move, do anything but just be still and think.

 

He tenses as a warm hand rests on his back. Winry is standing behind him. The intensity of his blood rushing through his veins had eclipsed the sound of her entrance. Her hands begin to rub circles through his shirt, soothing the muscles from their uptight state. It is a simple touch; the type of which he has found sanctuary in the past few nights, only this one consciously given. The shaking stops and he takes several deep breaths through his nose.

 

“Are you alright?” She asks softly.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, willing that statement to truth. After few more deep breaths he is ready to go.

 

<+>

 

Ed is squinting at his book again. Winry’s eyes keep leaving the road to confirm this fact and he finally notices. Looking up, he asks her what she is looking at.

 

“I think you may need reading glasses.” She says. “Your eyes keep squinting.”

 

“No. I’m just having trouble reading on this bumpy road.”  He bends back down, trying to hold the book at a new angle that will minimize the shaking of the pages.

 

“I don’t know how you can read that now.” He looks up curiously, his face open like it used to be in his childhood, and she explains, “I can’t read in a moving vehicle. It makes me feel nauseous.”

 

“Really?” He blinks before turning back to his story. “I never knew that about you.”

 

Winry is surprised at her reaction to this simple statement. They had been friends for so long, connected on so many levels, that she sometimes forgets about all the little facts that they don’t know about each other.  An awful weight settles in her chest and that thought suddenly seems extremely important to her. She thinks of Al and Granny and tries to recall the little things she knew about them. She can’t remember what their favorite food or color was, or whether or not they could read in a moving vehicle without getting sick.

 

“Ed, tell me something I don’t know about you.”

 

Time had passed and Ed had once again fallen into his story. He looks over to her curiously before closing his book, allowing his finger to bookmark the page. Staring at the red cover, Ed’s gaze is thoughtful.

 

“The smell of pickles makes me sick.”

 

“Huh, I didn’t know that.”

 

Ed looks around, finds a scrap of paper in the glove compartment, and uses it to mark his page. “Why the sudden interest?”

 

Winry runs her words over in her head, thinking of the sight of Ed trembling in the middle of that hotel room, and tries to put her thoughts into words without bringing up Alphonse. “I was just thinking about all the little things we didn’t know about each other. I was thinking about it because a person could be gone before you even think about asking them what their favorite color is. Then you are stuck thinking about it for the rest of your life, and it wouldn’t seem so important if the person was alive, but they’re not so it is important because you will never get the chance to ask.”

 

She had forgotten to breathe during all that and now took several deep breaths through her nose. She feels so silly, especially now that Ed is looking at her with concern. She tries to avoid looking at him, staring into the horizon with a frown, but in her peripheral vision she can still see him. He blinks a few times, and she knows that’s what he does when his is beginning to understand, before facing straight ahead as well.

 

She hazards a look at him and he says, “My favorite color is red.”

 

A small laugh forces out the air she’d been unknowingly holding. “I kind of assumed that.”

 

“Yeah, well now you know for sure.” There is a moment then, as they both look at each other with content expressions. It’s like the parting of clouds on an overcast day; brief, but enough to chase away the gloom for a while. Ed opens his mouth and Winry can easily guess the question he is about to ask.

 

“My favorite color is dark blue.”

 

His mouth snaps shut and Winry smiles at him.

 

<+>

 

That afternoon they cross more barriers than miles; the previous space between them decreasing faster than the distance to their destination. Ed tells her that he can’t swim, that steak is his favorite food, and that his favorite animal has to be the starfish. He learns that she’s always been afraid of the water, that dogs are her favorite animal, and that she could live forever on a diet of yogurt and pasta. Things get more personal and he tells her that he’s never been kissed.

 

“Why not?” She asks.

 

Ed fidgets in his seat. “I don’t know. I think I could have been if I tried. Other things just seemed more important. Have you, you know, ever kissed anyone?”

 

It’s Winry’s turn to look uncomfortable. “Yeah.”

 

It is not the answer Ed expects to hear. It takes a while before expectation meets comprehension and he finds himself staring at her in disbelief. “Who?”

 

“Nelly dared me to kiss Dean Burns when we were thirteen, so I did.”

 

He waits anxiously for her to continue. When she does not, he asks, “And…what was it like? What happened?”

 

“It was…kind of sweet. It’s not like he became my boyfriend or anything after.”

 

Ed stares at her, and the expression ‘paradigm shift’ comes to mind. In the years he spent traveling, he can honestly say that he never put much thought into what Winry was doing at any particular moment. If he did, he always imagined her sitting alone in her workshop. Not once had her personal life come into the picture. It was almost as if his subconscious expected her to be just sitting around in Resembool, ready to hop-to at his beck and call. He feels extremely guilty about that.

 

Of course he didn’t expect her to sit around at wait for him. Neither one had ever given the other a reason to. Still…something about her confession chafed at him.

 

Since he was old enough to know about boys and girls, Ed had always believed that either he or Al would be Winry’s first kiss. This belief was so strong and he carried it for so long that at some point in his life, it had become less of a romantic notion and more of a fact. A contest between brothers, even. That tiny dream was dead now, and he felt himself mourning the loss for both himself and his dead brother.

 

“Oh.” It’s all he can think to say.

 


	5. The Science of Definition

**5\. The Science of Definition**

 

 

It will take a long time to get to Dublith from East City, Winry is certain. She’s not sure of the exact route they should take, but they’ve been heading in a general southwest direction since they left East City earlier that day. She thinks they will be fine, so long as they pick up a map in the next town. The only problem is that it is already getting dark out and there hadn’t been any signs of civilization for a few hours.

 

Beside her, she can see that Ed is trying to sleep; head leaning back against the bench seat in a way that she is sure will hurt in the morning. His mouth is open and he is snoring lightly. Smiling fondly at him, Winry doesn’t see the large pot hole in the road ahead. The car rocks as she drives over it, causing Ed’s head to bounce and jar him from his light sleep.

 

He blinks and stares dopily at his surroundings, seemingly unperturbed by the bump to his head. “Where are we?”

 

“Don’t know,” She answers, “But why don’t you climb in the back and try to get more sleep.”

 

He rubs at his eyes, “What about you?”

 

“I think I’ll drive for a while longer and see if I can find a town.”

 

“And if you can’t?”

 

She shrugs, “I’ll just pull over and sleep in the front seat.”

 

Ed agrees and turns around to climb in the back seat.  They had thrown their belongings in haphazardly when they left East City and Ed has to spend a few minutes organizing the luggage area behind the back seat so he can transfer them there. It takes a bit of work with all of the tools Winry packed, but eventually he is able to clear enough space for their two suitcases.

 

There is the sound of hands clapping and a bright blue light illuminates the car’s dark interior. Winry’s eyes are drawn to the rearview mirror. She sees Ed, a look of sleepy inspiration on his face, kneeling on the bench seat behind her, his suitcase thrown open on the seat in front of him. She watches him warily as he switches his suitcase for hers and transmutes again.

 

The suitcases make their way to the boot of the car and a rectangular object is set on the seat beside her. One hand leaves the wheel as she grabs at it, her hand contacting with soft cloth. It’s a blanket, an especially multicolored one, and as she pulls at a corner, she can make out the shapes and colors of her clothes hastily bound together.

 

“Ed! These are my clothes!” She yells to her passenger, who had already laid down, a blanket of similar design covering his body.

 

“I can fix it, don’t worry.” He mumbles, “You’ll need it if we sleep in here tonight. It’ll get cold, trust me.”

 

He has a point, and as annoyed as she is, she can’t argue with his concern.

 

<+>

 

Ed finds it hard to get back to sleep again and he lays there until Winry finally gets tired of driving and pulls over along the road. There is the sound of rustling clothes and squeaking leather seats as she settles herself in the front seat.

 

Outside, crickets and cicadas chirp and a gentle breeze blows through the surrounding foliage. It is a break from the euphony of the sputtering engine and ping of rocks hitting the side of the car as tires tear through dirt roads. It is a new kind of silence and it is deafening.

 

“Ed? Are you still awake?” Winry whispers.

 

He clears his throat, “Yeah,” he says quietly. The night is too calm and he doesn’t want to disturb it.

 

“I don’t suppose there is anything left we can make pillows with, huh?” She seems to think on the same lines, and her voice is quiet in reverence to the night.

 

“No. I told you to pack light, remember?” He doesn’t intend for it to be a joke but she sniggers anyway.

 

They both listen to the insect song outside their car. In the distance, an owl is heard.

 

“This is kind of nice isn’t it?” She says.

                                                                                       

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and just listens.

 

“Did you used to do this often, when…you know?”

 

“A few times. Never in a car though.” Ed notices that she doesn’t mention Al by name or the time they spent traveling. His eyes open. “You know…” he begins, unsure of what he is about to say.

 

“What?”

 

He thinks a bit, trying to capture the thought that had previously run through his mind and for a moment demanded to come out. “You don’t have to avoid saying his name.”

 

The sound of creaky leather accompanies the appearance of her face over the back of the seat. “You do.”

 

Ed wasn’t ready to be confronted with the truth of his own idiosyncrasies.  “It’s not intentional.” He concedes. <i> _’Unlike you.’_ </i> He doesn’t say it, but they both seem to know its there.

 

She looks down for a moment, hands tracing along the seat. “I guess I do it because I think it upsets you.”

 

“It doesn’t. It happened. It’s not like I don’t know it happened if you don’t say his name. It’s not like <i> _one_ </i> syllable is going to make me suddenly realize that he’s gone.” He says this all rather gruffly and by the end, he is berating himself for being so harsh with someone whose only fallibility is that they care about him.

 

Before he can apologize she is speaking again.

 

“That’s not what I think.” Her even voice is quietly serious and slightly accusing. “I just don’t want to scrub at a wound I know is still fresh. It’s only been a couple months and you gave me no indication that you were ready to talk about him. You don’t talk about him and the first time you did, back in East City, it tore you apart.”

 

“That’s not…” He starts out harshly, takes a deep, calming breath before starting again. Softly this time, remembering his earlier guilt, “I was upset because I let myself forget. For a moment, I forgot that he was gone. And when I finally remembered…It was like losing him all over again.”

 

The back of his eyes start to feel prickly and he throws an arm over them, hoping that will be enough of a shield from her gaze. It makes him want to open up in a way that he doesn’t feel ready enough for. Not yet. A dam is about to burst inside of him, one he wants to hold up for a while longer.

 

She wants to say something else, he knows - can practically feel it in the air. “Can we… just go to sleep now?”

 

“…Okay.” He must have sounded desperate, because the next sound he hears is her lying back down on the front seat. “Goodnight Ed.”

 

<+>

 

Winry wakes up earlier than she would have if she’d slept in a hotel. She throws the blanket off and regrets the hasty action as goose bumps break out across her skin. She pulls the blanket back over her, grateful that Ed is so thoughtful. Speaking of her passenger, she looks in the back seat and notices that he’s not there.

 

She uncovers slowly this time, letting herself adjust to the cold. Pushing the door open, she gets out of the car and stretches, feeling her muscles pull and her bones pop. The air has a definite bite to it and she rubs her arms for warmth. The sky is cloudy, and she wonders if it will finally rain.

 

The bushes to her left rustle and Ed emerges from the forest.

 

“Where were you?” She asks when he draws closer.

 

“Bathroom.”

 

She takes a few more minutes to stretch before climbing in the car. Ed is already seated next to her and an idea suddenly strikes. Turning towards him, she asks, “Hey Ed, what to learn how to drive?”

 

<+>

 

 

Winry explains things in too much detail, making the lesson longer than Ed would have liked. With each step they come to, Winry goes off on a tangent about the inner mechanical workings of her pride and joy. Furthermore, she had decided that the easiest way to teach him how to drive was to show him, which apparently required her to sit closer to him than he was used to. She kept a hand on top of his right hand, their fingers both gripping the shifting knob as she showed him how to maneuver through the gears. Her other hand rested on his knee and she used slight pressure to signal him whenever he had to release the clutch, brake, or push on the gas petal.

 

Now, Ed has known for a while that Winry is a girl, but every time he pops the clutch and they are jolted hard into each other, he is reminded of how much of a woman she has become. She hasn’t showered since the day before, and he can smell her perspiration - strangely feminine and pleasant. It is seriously damaging his learning capabilities.

 

She asks why his face is so red. Smoothly, he tells her that he is getting hot and she graciously slides further to the passenger side. That takes care of one problem.

 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t interfere with her ability to give extended lectures. In fact, it gives her a better position to observe his irritated looks and she winds up yelling at him for not paying attention. Ed’s jaw is starting to become sore from clenching his back teeth together. With a frustrated sigh, he tells himself that at least the new pain is distracting him from his sore back. A result, no doubt, of sleeping curled up in the back seat.

 

“Winry, can you just let me try on my own, please?” He interrupts her speech – something to do with pistons – and she turns back around with a huff, arms going akimbo. Sighing in relief, Ed gathers up the few basic facts that he did learn, turns the key, and gently shifts through the gears. Next to him, Winry looks surprised and a little put out. Warily, she watches him as he maneuvers the car down the road.

 

For the next few miles her gaze is like a hawk and Ed finds his nerves wearing thin.  It’s not like the road is busy. They’d been traveling on it for almost two days now and seen enough cars to count on one set of hands. They’d even traveled past the forest, so there weren’t any trees close to the road for him to hit. She is just being over protective, and he, in his flustered and already aggravated state, has little tolerance left.

 

“I think I see a town.” He announces, and sure enough, far in the distance, shapes too regular and straight to be natural come into view.

 

They arrive in minutes and a sign at the entrance of town proclaims it as Hatton’s Bend. The town is not as large as East City, not even close, but it is about three times the size of Gatewood. Most of the houses are white or tan stucco with red or brown clay roofs. Stores litter several side streets and a main drag lies in the center of town with several outlying roads and neighborhoods.

 

There is more traffic here and Winry tensely tells him to pull over in an abandoned parking lot since they haven’t covered parking yet.

 

“What do you want to do now?” He asks, getting out of the car.

 

“I guess, get a room for a couple of hours.”

 

The last time Ed had heard anyone suggest that was when Mustang had offered to arrange a way for him to get rid of his virginity problem. One and one make two and Ed finds himself having trouble reconciling the sum with his preconceived image of Winry.

 

They grab their bags and lock up the car. Ed follows her as she leads them along to the nearest hotel and asks for a day rate. He has trouble meeting the eyes of the clerk, fully aware of what it appears like they are about to do.  Winry doesn’t seem to notice, and if she does, she doesn’t show that she cares.

 

The room is not much different than the millions he has seen in his days; two double beds, a desk, and an attached bathroom.

 

“You can use the bathroom first.” He offers, “I’ll go get us something to eat.” She agrees and he can’t get out the door fast enough.

 

Next-door is a restaurant. He orders two breakfasts ‘to go’ and sits at a table to wait. Resting his elbows on the surface of the table, he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wonders what is wrong with him.

 

It had been ages since he’d felt…that, for anybody, he’d honestly forgotten how to cope with it. The fact that he is lusting for Winry makes it all the worse.

 

He and Al never talked about it much, but his relationship with Winry is…was strikingly different than Al’s.  For as long as he could remember, there had always been this…thing between them. It was like a steel rod forged between them, keeping her slightly at a distance and preventing him from defining her in any specific way. Al was his best friend and anything he’d ever learned about siblings prevented him from thinking of her like a sister. He used to, but on the day her parents died, that title began to fade away. If he was really any kind of brother to her, he would have grieved as much as she did. 

 

That’s probably when it all started. After her parents died, Winry changed. Sometimes, she would get these longing looks on her face when she saw him, Al, and his mother together. She started spending more time with her Granny. Come to think of it, that’s when she first began studying auto-mail, a prophetic pastime that would come in handy several years later.

 

Then, she had become his auto-mail mechanic, a title that had fit them well. The only time it ever gave him problems was when she would get personal, worry, and cry on his behalf, which happened more times than Ed could count. It was probably this behavior that convinced so many people for so long that she was his girlfriend. Then he’d just scream at them and say that she was just his mechanic, grateful for such a convenient title.

 

It’s wasn’t like he’d never thought about it. In the short time after he and Al were restored, when everything was perfect, he’d thought about it more seriously than he ever had.

 

In the next year he spent most of his time adjusting to having an arm and leg again. There was no rush then, so he took his time.  Sometimes, he attempted to sort out his true feelings for Winry, but again felt unhurried. Then one day, Al had collapsed, just as his mother had. The déjà vu sent him reeling and the next several months all he thought about was his brother’s health.

 

It seems that his path in life is to constantly push Winry aside.

 

But now…Winry is all he really has. The implications of that make his chest ache. 

 

Al is gone.  What would become of him now? Could he now re-make his path to put her first? Was it fair after being so selfish for so long? Would she even want a relationship? Did he?

 

Would he have sought to define her this way if Al was still here? Would it have worked if Al was still here? How could he enter into a relationship with her if it wouldn’t have worked if his brother hadn’t…passed on?

 

What if it didn’t work out? What if he ruined it all, like he was apt to do? Would she hate him and leave him too? Would they continue to be just friends? Could they? Most importantly, why was he thinking of this now, after so long?

 

He has a million questions and only one truth. His body is waking up. In other men, it would be cause for celebration, but Edward Elric is not other men. To him, it is just another problem on a pile of too many others.

 

<+>

 

Ed is not back when she steps out of the shower, so she takes a little extra time to get cleaned up. She twists up her hair in a style reminiscent of Riza Hawkeye and banishes her comfy jeans and one-piece work clothes to the bottom of her suitcase, pulling out her much preferred shorts and tank-tops. She’d left most of her beautiful skirts at home. They were a pain to drive in. Briefly, she wonders if she can get Ed to freshen their clothes with alchemy. She thinks it’s possible and it will take less time.

 

After she is dressed, she finds a pad of paper on the desk and, sitting on the bed, begins to make a list of supplies they may need. Gas was first on the list, followed by soap, a map, toothpaste, and possibly some snacks for the road.

 

Winry is pondering if anything she needs is available at the local hardware store when Ed gets back. He gives her a funny look and she asks why.

 

“Your hair looks different.” He states, strolling into the room, examining her out of the corner of his eye the whole time.

 

Her fingers reach up to play with the clip in her hair, “Do you like it? I felt like a change and I always liked Riza’s hair. Mine’s a bit different though.”

 

Ed doesn’t say anything, but a second later, food is sat down in front of her. He sits with his back to her at the desk. They eat in silence for a while, and Winry is shocked at how uneasy it feels. Since Al, she has grown accustomed to long silences in Ed’s company.

 

“I was thinking that we should get some supplies while we’re here.” She ventures an attempt at conversation.

 

“What kind of supplies?”

 

“Well, we should defiantly take the car and get gas. I’d like to give it a tune up but that could take a while so I suppose it can wait for now…I’d like to get a map. Come to think of it, it was pretty stupid of us to leave without one.”

 

“I suppose. Why don’t you go and do that. I’ll shower and get anything else you want.”

 

Winry watches his back for a moment, as if it will lend any answers to his strange behavior. All day, his behavior has just been…off. It was very subtle, but Winry could tell. He’d been polite to the point of being unnatural. He’d said please and been extremely gentlemanly all day. He’d even almost complemented her on her hair, something Ed never did. And now his suggestion to split their errands in half…

 

Why did it feel like he was suddenly trying to avoid her? With all the time they’d been spending together recently, was she finally starting to get on his nerves? Did she do or say something wrong?

 

Last night, his voice had sounded so thick and desperate for her to just leave him alone. Maybe that could have been it.

 

Of course, it could be that she was imagining it all and he simply wanted to get back on the road faster. And even if he did want a little time to himself, there was nothing wrong with that.

 

Making up her emotions, Winry pastes on a big smile and says, “Okay. I’ll make you a list.”

 

<+>

 

The water is hot and Ed is thankful that Winry has already left. When he walked in, he thought he had the wrong room. It was amazing what a simple hairstyle could do to make a person look older. Not to mention the fact that when he’d walked in she’d been sitting with one leg curled under her, the other stretched out casually to the side in a way that highlighted just how shapely her legs were…

 

He shakes his head to rid himself of the image. He <i> _really_ </i> should not be thinking about this with the hot water sluicing along his skin.

 

He quickly finishes up, steps out of the shower, and puts on a fresh set of clothes. He brushes his hair into a ponytail and heads out to the main room.

 

The first thing on his to-do list is pseudo-laundry as Al likes to call it…liked to call it.

 

He claps his hands together, manipulates the molecules, and their clothes become fresh and mostly clean. It’s no replacement for the real thing, but it’ll do for now. Next on the list are a few groceries, so he grabs the cash Winry left for him and steps out of the hotel room.

 

<+>

 

Hatton’s Bend sure has a lot of nice stores, Winry thinks. Each one painted in dulling shades of green, yellow, and red with big windows out front displaying merchandise.  After filling up on gas and grabbing a map, she decided that she deserved a little shopping break, so she went to the hardware store. She browsed so long the store owner got angry and kicked her out. It wasn’t her fault the only money she had was Edward’s and it’d be pointless to buy him a part for auto-mail he no longer has.

 

A few pastry shops later, she finds herself sticky-fingered and browsing the local bookstore. She doesn’t know a thing about alchemy so she just skips that section altogether. She finds a new auto-mail journal and purchases it, a little disappointed that she didn’t have any ideas on anything for Ed.

 

Ready to leave, a display at the entrance catches her eye.

 

 

<+>

 

The dampness of his ponytail seeps through his white shirt, sending chills down his back as he stands in front of a General store clutching a paper sack in one arm. His boots echo loudly on the sturdy wooden porch out front and he surveys the town. Buildings were packed so close there was no room for alleyways. Beyond, he can see tree tops and looking down the dirt road leading straight out of town he sees nothing but more fields. With all this land they could have spaced the town out more and he briefly wonders who did their city planning.

 

Horse drawn carriages loaded with grain pass by as he steps down and begins to canvas the shops, wondering if he can find his driver. A few vendors barter their goods along the road and for a moment he is caught up in the familiar feeling of the market.

 

Alphonse never really liked the market; too many people to stare at him. Ed loved it though and often times would wander about in it when he needed to think. Alphonse often asked him why he always went to the market and never bought anything.  It was easy to pretend, just for a moment, that Al was just waiting back at the hotel for his brother to come home empty handed.

 

Truth slapped him in the face and Edward put down the apple he had picked up. The reminiscent smile that had for a second graced his face slowly melts. Al was not at the hotel. Al would never be waiting back at the hotel.  Al would never again know the joy of everyday life that came from a trip to the market.

 

“I thought that was you.”

 

Turning around to Winry, he doesn’t say anything but he can tell she knows something is wrong. The cheer in her voice wavers on her face.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

Meeting her eyes, he tries to make himself look less desolate without being suspicious and tells her that everything is alright. It is difficult to keep his voice from cracking.

 

“Oh, good.” The cheerful mood returns. “Hey I bought you something.”

 

A brown wrapped package that was clearly a book is thrust in his face.  He takes it, surprised. “I didn’t think you had any money.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. Just open it would you.”

 

Ed eyes her suspiciously, and gets the feeling he just bought himself a present.

 

The paper tears easily and he turns the book over in his hands searching for a title. It has none.  Opening the pages, he finds them blank as well. He snaps the book shut. “I don’t need another research journal.”

 

Winry doesn’t flinch at his protest, “No silly! Not all journals are for research you know.” She lectures.

 

“…So what am I supposed to write in it?”

 

“Whatever you want. That’s the beauty of a journal. You can write down what you’re feeling from day to day.”

 

Edward stares at her. What had gotten into her to make her think he’d keep a diary? He wasn’t the type of person who liked to talk about his feelings let alone write them down. She should know that. The fact that she didn’t makes his heart sink and instead of calling her on it he just mumbles a thanks and tucks it into his jacket pocket.

 

Her face falls a bit but Edward can’t dredge up the will to care about the fact that she was hurt by his lack of enthusiasm for her gift.

 

She sighs, “I could really use some caffeine. Hey, let’s get some coffee before we leave, okay?” She offers.

 

He follows her to a restaurant with an outdoor café. Winry wants to sit outside, but one look at the overcast sky and Ed suggests that they better go inside. They find a booth and sit across from each other, laying their respective bags on the seat next to them. He sets the journal on the table top, contemplates it for a moment, and picks it back up. Winry pulls out a journal with an auto-mail arm on the cover and immerses herself in it.

 

Listlessly, he turns page after blank page in the journal. It is a deep burgundy hard-cover with creamy white pages. They feel dry and heavy to his fingers, and he is impressed by the understated quality. These kinds of pages would soak up ink quickly, preventing smearing if the writer were ever on a roll. He can clearly picture the ink seeping into the thirsty page. Really, it would have made a fantastic research journal. If only he had anything left to research...

 

With a sigh he puts down the journal. Maybe it wasn’t such a useless present after all. He had always found that even after the greatest upheavals, life continued on. Routines were adjusted and the days kept on passing. Perhaps one day he’d find something to fill it with.

 

Across from him, Winry folds the magazine in half and leans eagerly over the page. A small piece of hair brushes across her face and she mechanically tucks it behind her ear, her intensity not disrupted at the least. He smiles, in some ways he and Winry were too alike.

 

He wonders if in another life, that similarity would have counted for something more meaningful between the two of them. In that moment, a thought perches on the edge of his brain. Never one to let a stray thought escape, he searches his mind for a thread to grasp that will lead him to it.

 

He looks at Winry again and sees a path not taken. What would have happened if he and Al had learned their lesson from Sensei? They’d never have been disfigured, never have joined the military, and Al would have still died. At least, the way things played out, Ed had gotten more time with his brother. 

 

The other option had its appeal too. For one, Ed is sure that if he’d never met Maes Hughes, he’d still be alive. Then, would Winry’s definition still be unclear? If he and Al had never decided to bring their mother back, their secrets would have never festered and beget the gap between the two brothers and she. Then what? Granny had certainly offered to let them live with her. The only reason they had refused was so they could study human transmutation in private. But what if they had accepted? Would the label of sister fit Winry then? When Al got his body back it was that of a ten year old. It hadn’t aged a day in the gate, so the disease didn’t have time to incubate. In the unblemished alternate reality of his life, he would have been thirteen when Al died at age twelve. In Resembool, at that age he could have ventured forward on his own.

 

The possibilities are endless and each one soars through his head with terrible speed.

 

For a second, he longs for a pen.


	6. The Hitch

**6\. The Hitch**

 

 

Fresh out of town, the dark car speeds up to compensate for the long journey ahead. Dark clouds roll by ominously, painting the world in grey, the greenery of surrounding forests and fields standing out in stark relief. The air is thick and hot despite the clouds and Ed wishes that it would just rain and get it over with.

 

It hadn’t taken long for them to get back on the road. Ed had kept the journal Winry gave him in his coat pocket hoping to please her. Occasionally, he catches her looking at it out of the corner of her eye with a frown. Eventually, the afternoon humidity becomes too much and he drapes the brown coat over the seat of the car. Still, her sideways looks continue.

 

“What?” he finally asks, annoyed.

 

“What, what?” She asks, startled.

 

Ed rolls his eyes; he isn’t in the mood to play oblivious with her. She keeps looking at him and frowning and he wants to know why, so he asked.

 

“You’ve gotten thinner.”

 

“No I haven’t”

 

Winry isn’t convinced, “Ed, come on, that shirt is hanging off of you.”

 

Ed dismisses her. It only looks big because it is a size too big.

 

“I know what size it is,” Winry snaps, “I bought it for you last year and it fit perfectly then.”

 

The back of Edward’s head hits the seat. They just left town and there isn’t another for at least a day. He isn’t in the mood to argue about his weight all the way there and he curses the east in general for being so rural.

 

A spot in the distance begins to take shape and he lifts his head, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look.

 

“Win, look.” He points to the figure in the distance.

 

“It’s a hitch hiker.”

 

Edward tells her to stop. Winry looks at him like he is crazy.

 

“Come on, there might not be another car for hours and it looks like it might rain. She could be stranded out here all day.”

 

The car is fast approaching the woman at the side of the road and Winry is not slowing down.

 

“We don’t know if we’re even going the way she’s headed.”

 

“Doesn’t matter, just stop.”

 

“No.”

 

“Stop.”

 

The car screeches to a halt just past the hitch hiker, throwing Edward forward into the dash. Dust billows around the woman by the road as she hesitantly looks toward the car. As she begins to approach, Edward rubs his head and hears Winry mutter, “Serves you right for not wearing your seatbelt.”

 

The car door opens and the woman climbs into the back seat. “Thanks for stopping.”

 

“Are you kidding, not a problem.” Winry smiles brightly at the girl and ignores the looks Edward throws her way.

 

“Where are you headed?” He asks.

 

“Robis.”

 

“Robis.” Winry laughs, “Isn’t that near Central?” She pointedly asks Edward.

 

“You guys…aren’t headed that way?” The girl looks from one blond to another.

 

“Of course we are.” Edward says, tight-lipped to Winry. Turning back to the girl, he plasters on his most charming smile and feels a deep satisfaction at the scowl Winry directs at him. “Don’t mind her. She’s just cranky because she’s been driving too long. By the way, I’m Ed and that’s Winry.”

 

“Moura.”

 

<+>

 

Winry has always been a slightly violent person. She doesn’t know exactly where she gets it from – although she suspects it’s from the influence of Granny – it’s just always been there. Luckily though, she’s never really gone as far as to seriously hurt someone – despite what some short (yes still short. For a guy anyway) alchemist may have to say. She’d always had that level of control. Well, that control is being pulled very thin right now because of one thing.

 

 

This girl is everything Winry hates about the female species. Well, Winry thinks, she doesn’t hate all of woman-kind; she just hates some of the stereotypes and behaviors most feel like they need to exhibit in order to get what they want.

 

Take Moura for example.

 

On the outside she is kind of cute. Short brown hair tucked under a little hat with a bill on it. Long tan limbs protruded from her tank top and shorts and of all things she has a long colorful scarf wrapped around her neck.

 

The scarf is just enough to mildly annoy Winry, but the girl is in serious danger every time she opens her mouth. She is bubbly and agreeable to the point of being annoying. She doesn’t have any opinions of any kind on anything of any consequence and when she does finally pipe up with her inane opinions, the subject is so empty and vapid she may as well have said nothing at all.  And her laugh…Every time she laughs – which is often – Winry’s knuckles turn white and her teeth clench together.

 

The worst thing though, is that Ed is falling for it. He is even feeding into it.

 

Maura laughs again, and Winry is reminded of donkeys. She turns to her passenger and sees that he is smiling at Moura, turned sideways with his left arm thrown over the back of the seat.  Moura leans forward and touches his arm. Winry doesn’t hear what she says as the world starts to tunnel in on that gesture and to her ears it sounds like a hurricane has blown through the car. Ed laughs and that sound brings her anger down.

 

What is going on here? Why does Maura get to see this side of Ed? Does the twit even realize the significance of that smile? Of that laugh? Does she know that it’s been so long since she’s heard it that she thought it was gone for good?

 

Why is Ed suddenly so…dumb?

 

<+>

 

Ed is certain that if he had plastered on even a tenth of this act during one of the military balls the Colonel forced him to attend, he’d have made it to General by now.  Moura is a terrible flirt, and Ed, who knows nothing of flirting, relies on every bit of experience in manipulation that he has to keep her going. Turns out the two are remarkably similar.

 

The greatest part is Winry’s reaction to the whole thing. If she thinks he missed the set of her jaw and the tight grip on the wheel, she is mistaken. As fun as it is though, after a couple hours of it, Ed is getting exhausted. It takes a lot of energy to keep up this type of front. He needs a break.

 

“Winry, can you pull over?” She shoots him one of the nastiest glares he has ever seen and he is compelled to explain, “Bathroom.”

 

<+>

 

As Ed’s back disappears into the tree line, Winry and Moura step out of the car to stretch. Winry watches the hitch hiker carefully, not fully trusting her not to follow Ed into the woods and try to molest him. Current behavior in mind, she also wouldn’t put it past Edward to go along with it.

 

“So, is Ed your boyfriend…or something?” Moura asks.

 

Or something, Winry wants to answer. Instead she says, “He’s a friend.”

 

“Oh, that’s good.”

 

Winry wants to smack that half-happy, mostly dumb look off the girl’s face. She can see just what that girl wants from Ed and she doesn’t like it one bit. Edward is…Edward. He deserves better than some stupid girl with her stupid scarf and stupid wannabe beret. Winry knows her type all too well. She doesn’t want Ed because of his heart or his mind. Ed was easy on the eyes and fit to boot. Also, not many people had cars of their own yet. Moura probably believes them to be wealthy.  And if Moura ever found out his last name, she’d play that up too. A girl like that would never be good for him.

 

She needs to warn him, and if things keep on going like they’ve been, she needs to do it soon.

 

“You know, I think I’m gonna go too. Can you watch the car?” She asks Moura and takes off before she can even get an answer.

 

A girl like that would chew Ed up and spit him out, and poor, girl-retarded Edward wouldn’t know what hit him. No, if Winry had to describe the girl for Ed it would probably be someone completely opposite of Moura. Someone smart and caring, who understands all that Ed’s been though, knows where his limits are and understands that he is not as tough as he likes to act. For a moment, Winry muses that she’s just described herself, but decides not to dwell on that thought for long. Right now, she’s got a boy to save.

 

“Pst…Ed.” She calls, not wanting to catch Ed with his pants down.

 

“Over here,” He calls back and steps around a tree still buttoning up his fly.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

“About what?”

 

“Moura.”

 

At that name, a dopey grin spreads over Ed’s face and his gaze sweeps dreamily somewhere over Winry’s shoulder, “Moura? She’s great isn’t she?”

 

“If by ‘great’ you mean a great big hussy.”

 

His eyes snap back to Winry’s face and his tone gets defensive, “What? What’s your problem?”

 

“That’s funny, I was going to ask you the same question.” Winry’s fists clench at her sides and she takes a step toward Edward, who wisely takes half a step back, “Have you gone completely retarded? That girl only wants to jump your bones and you are just going right along with it.”

 

Recovering, Ed stands his ground and crosses his arms defensively. “So.”

 

“So? SO?!” Winry takes a step at every word and soon winds up barely nose to nose with Ed.

 

“Yeah. So.” Ed answers and turns away from her. He waves a dismissive hand as he takes a few steps away saying, “we’re adults now Winry. I see no reason why we can’t indulge in a little meaningless sex.”

 

“Oh listen to you Mr. Pimp.” Winry throws back at him causing Ed to turn and glare. “Come on, this isn’t like you at all. The Ed I know wouldn’t be able to listen to that girl prattle on for five minutes, let alone long enough to get her in bed.”

 

“And your point?” His eyebrows draw together in a ‘V’ shape, annoyed.

 

“My point is that you are completely unrecognizable to me today!” Winry drops her voice an octave, poorly imitating Ed’s “‘I see no reason why we can’t indulge in a little meaningless sex.’” Returning her voice to normal she scoffs, “<i> _Please </i>_ Ed, you’re as virgin as they come.”

 

Ed scowls at her, “Yeah, well not for long.” At that he storms out of the forest and Winry is left with her fists balled at her sides.

 

A hurricane all her own, Winry follows his example and rages down the path a few feet behind him, making plans for the biggest cock-block the world has ever seen. She nearly runs over Ed.

 

“Winry, where’s the car?”


	7. The Hitch Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are running a bit high and in a fit of defiance, Ed insists on picking up a hitch-hiker. The girl – Moura – Ends up being a thief and steals most of their money.

 

**7\. The Hitch**

 

Another rock feels the wrath of Winry Rockbell and Ed is glad that he’s not walking in front of her.

 

“Winry, would you please slow down.” He calls after her and quickens his step. She ignores him and he tries to reason with her. “Look, we’ve got a lot of miles to go and if you keep up this pace you’ll wear yourself out.” More silence, “Look, you said that she wouldn’t make it far anyway, remember? Something about the gas cap being rigged so only you can open it.”

 

Again he is ignored. Sighing, he takes off at a jog, quickly covering the twenty some feet between them. “Winry, wait.” Frustrated he grabs at her hand, stopping her in her tracks. “Is it the Money? I can get more. I mean, I don’t get another check until next month but at the next town I can have them wire me an advance and-“

 

“It’s not that.” Winry’s voice is soft, cutting off his ramble. Ed still has hold on her hand, but it felt like she was miles away; their hands hang limply between them like a bridge connecting two distant land masses. “It’s not about money, Ed.”

 

“Well…then what’s wrong? I told you we’d get the car back.” Of this fact Ed was confident. After noticing the car gone, the two had taken off in the direction they had been heading, following a faint dust trail and Ed’s intuition. If memory served, this road was a pretty straight shot to Ellisonville.  From there, many roads branched out in different directions. Ed and Winry had planned on gassing up and following the southernmost one to Dublith. Ed figured that there was just enough gas in the car to make it a little past Ellisonville, so they would probably be able to find the car abandoned a little outside of town. In his opinion, finding the car would be one of the easier things he’d done in his life.

 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

 

Ed felt as if he had been slapped in the face. He had thought that they were establishing a bit of rapport, that after all these years they were finally really beginning to communicate and understand each other on an entirely different level. It was nothing like what he had with Al, even so, it was something, and it made a whole lot of difference in his new world of nothingness. He lets her hand drop.

 

Winry watches the action with sorrowful eyes. She must have seen something in his face because she turns away from him and says, “I just don’t want to talk about it, okay.” She swallows thickly and begins to walk away, slower this time.

 

Ed wonders if that was an attempt to soothe his feelings. He itches to say more but can think of nothing concrete. Instead, he shoves his hands in his pockets and follows her down the road.

 

<+>

 

Ed follows at a comfortable distance and every once in a while she can feel his eyes on her. They are silent for hours, and Winry feels just about ready to drop before Ed breaks that silence.

 

“It’ll be dark soon. We should find someplace to camp.”

 

She stops and he stops with her. She turns to him and gestures to their surroundings, a dirt road with a field on one side and a forest on the other, “Any suggestions?”

 

Ed turns toward the forest and is silent, thinking, “Well, we crossed a bridge about an hour ago, if we head into the forest we can probably find the river.”

 

“The river?”

 

“I don’t know about you but, I’m starving and I can probably catch us some fish there.”

 

“Yeah but, don’t you think it’ll be colder down by the river?”

 

“Nah, I can build us some shelter. I can even use alchemy this time.”

 

Ed is grinning at her but Winry doesn’t get the joke. Briefly, she wonders if he’s only in high spirits for her benefit.

 

She follows him into the woods and the trail is considerably rockier than what they’ve had so far. They step over fallen trees and duck under low branches as their feet shuffle through the dried leaves that carpet the forest floor.  Eventually the trees grow less dense and they come out by a river that was little more than a creek. The water is calm and trickles gently between the riverbanks. The sound relaxes her in an instant.

 

Ed stops at the riverside and places his hands on his hips. He turns to her with a proud smirk on his face. The boy sure does love it when he’s right. 

 

“This’ll work. Now all we need is the right ingredients. I’ll be right back.”

 

He brushes past her and Winry asks, “What should I do?”

 

“Wait here. I’ll call you if I need your help.”

 

Winry’s never been too afraid of getting dirty and plops down right in the sand. She figures that it is a good enough place to think. She watches the river, her gaze far beyond the surface of the water. Several times she hears Ed return, dragging behind him logs and bark and leaves. Briefly she wonders if he plans on homesteading out here and doesn’t think that is such a bad idea. All this time on the road and she is only now realizing that she needed to get out of that house just as much as Ed did. If Ed chose to head back after they reached Izumi’s, she’d most likely object.

 

They had lost Al and Granny so close together that it’s hard to remember the in-between time. First Al wasn’t there, and then it felt like just the next day Granny wasn’t there either. She knew that wasn’t the way it was. In truth, Granny had passes almost a whole month after Al. The ironic thing was, she had seen Al’s death coming more than she had Granny’s. Al had been sick for almost a year and in the end, she was a little relieved to see him pass, if only so he wouldn’t feel any more pain. Even though Granny was older, she always seemed so strong – like she would live forever. But just one day, Winry woke up and she had died in her sleep.

 

It’s hard to judge which was the most tragic. Which loss was more significant? A young boy and only sibling suffering from sickness, or an old woman who was a single care-giver?

 

Winry mourned, but not like Ed did. He was quiet and thin, moving through the house like a specter. Truthfully, she wondered if Ed even noticed that Pinako had died. The past two months were probably like a dream for him. Winry was glad he was finally waking, but it just made her grief all the more resolute. She hadn’t grieved like Ed did. There was too much to be done – customers to keep, automail to fix, a house to keep up, and an Ed to think of – always an Ed to think of. With so much to do, she didn’t’ have time to grieve properly.

 

But now, sitting by the river, stripped of the car – the last piece of her Granny she had left – she had nothing physical to hold on to anymore, nothing that would stem the flow of her grief.

 

By the riverside, tears finally come.

 

<+>

 

Winry had been silent all night and Ed couldn’t find the words to ask why.  In the morning, they dismantle the alchemically made camp and begin walking toward Ellisonville. By midmorning Winry is still quiet and luck fortunes them with an old pickup truck rumbling down the road. The driver graciously offers to give them a lift.

 

Ed makes small talk with the driver through the window in back of the cab. Winry sits off toward the back, hugging her knees to her chest as the wind blows her hair around her face. Ed frowns.

 

They made good time to Ellisonville and their driver drops them off at the local police station. While Winry fills out a report, Ed bums some change off an officer and goes out to use the payphone.

 

He thinks that Winry is concerned about the loss of their valuables, so one of his calls will be to Central. One of the best things Mustang ever did for him was make sure all the arrays he invented during his time in the state were patented in his name. Mustang had told him that he didn’t think Ed wanted to spend the rest of his life in the military and so he made arrangements to provide for him in the future. As a result, he received a very nice sized royalty payment every month. He’d have to call and get an advance on the next one, and have it wired directly to Ellisonville.

 

Hopefully, they can find the car quickly and be back on their way to Dublith.

 

Ed picks up the receiver and drops a coin into the slot. His fingers pause over the keypad and he begins to dial his Sensei’s number instead. The other line rings three times and Ed is about to hang up when Sig’s rough voice answers.

 

“Sig? It’s Edward.” Ed knows he’s a man of few words, so he doesn’t wait for a response. “I’m…uh, going to be in the area in a few days and I wanted to make sure that you and Sensei would be there.”

 

“A few days?”

 

“Yeah, I’m in Ellisonville now.”

 

“Take the train. You can be here by tomorrow.”

 

Ed hesitates, thinking over why Sig would rush him this way. “Why? Is something the matter?” His stomach clenches tightly and he starts to feel a bit cold.

 

“…take the train. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sig hangs up and Ed is left clutching the receiver tightly, eyes staring off into space.

 

“Ed?” Winry comes up behind him and Ed is shocked out of whatever weird state he had found himself in. “I’m done.”

 

He slams the phone back on the cradle and runs past Winry, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go.”

 

Winry squeals and makes a confused noise in the back of her throat. “Ed-!”

 

“There’s no time to explain. We have to catch a train now.”

 

“But we don’t have any money!”

 

“Trust me.”

 

The train is just pulling out of the station and going slow enough for Ed to grab onto a ladder rung on the side of one of the box cars. He hoists himself up and holds out a hand. Winry grabs on and he pulls her up beside him. He is able to wrench the side door open and maneuvers himself inside the car. The train is gaining speed steadily and he grabs on to a rope attached to the side of the car, normally used for securing cargo. Quickly, he loops the rope around his chest, makes sure it is strong and leans out the side of the car to see a distressed looking Winry holding on for dear life as the wind whips her hair about. He grabs one hand and slides his other arm around her waist. His leg wraps around the door to keep his lower half in the car. With a strong tug and excellent upper and lower strength, he is able to yank her inside with him.

 

Relieved, Ed laughs and looks down to a disheveled Winry on her knees, trying to catch her breath. She glares up at him and for the first time in a long while, Ed feels like himself again.

 

“Mind telling me what that was all about?” She pants and glowers at him.

 

“I called Sig. He sounded…I don’t know, but he told me to catch a train and I did.” He finishes with a shrug and begins to search the car for anything that will make the trip more comfortable.

 

“I don’t think this is exactly what he had in mind.” Winry frowns and starts to pick at her ruffled hair. Her fingers catch in a knot and she grimaces.

 

The car is only half full of cargo, and Ed remorselessly begins opening crates. “He said that I should be there tomorrow. It would have taken two days for my check to be processed and who knows how long after that to find the car. Plus, even if we had found it immediately after entering the city, there was no way we’d make it to Dublith by tomorrow.”

 

“Okay, I get it. Still, why do you suppose he needs you there tomorrow?”

 

Ed shrugs and looks thoughtful as he places the lid back on a crate full of dolls, “I don’t know, but Sensei has always been sick, and when he answered the phone he didn’t say the name of his business.”

 

“You don’t think Izumi’s…” Winry stopped picking at her hair and fixes a meaningful look at Ed.

 

“I don’t know.” Ed says softly and looks away.

 

There is a pregnant pause. Ed resumes his looting. Winry sighs, “What happens if they find the car?”

 

“We’ll call them and tell them where we’ll be.” There is more silence and Ed walks up to stand beside her, holding out a couple of padded chair cushions as if they were a peace offering, “About the car. I’m sorry I lost us all our stuff.”

 

Winry sighs and takes the cushions. She moves to the side of the car and props one underneath her and one against the wall. “It’s not that. It’s just…that car is one of the last things I have left of my Granny. I don’t know what I’d do if I never saw it again.”

 

Ed pulls up next to her, arranging his own cushions in the same manner. He smiles over at her and says confidently, “Don’t worry then. They’ll find it.”

 

Winry smiles at him and Ed finds himself in the middle of a moment he didn’t realize he’d walked into. Winry looks at him softly with a touch of awe and something else in her eyes, “Ed…Thank you.”

 

Ed smiles and clears his throat uncomfortably. He fidgets against the wall. “Well, we’ve got a long ride, right? We’d better make ourselves comfortable.”

 


	8. Procession

 

**8\. Procession**  

 

 

A tumble through dew laden grass is not the best way to start a girl’s day, Winry decides after their hasty escape from the train the following morning. Ed said it would be easier to be caught if they waited for the train to stop. Grouchy from an uneasy sleep on the train, Winry rubs at a grass stain on her elbow and hopes that Izumi will have a good remedy for getting it out.

 

They walk down the streets of Dublith, noting how little has changed, until they come to the Curtis’ Store. Ed stares at the building’s front. A closed sign hangs in the front window and all the lights appear to be off.  Winry knows this isn’t a good sign.

 

Ed starts toward the back of the building, where the entrance to the Curtis’ home is. Winry follows him. He doesn’t knock, but as he opens the door, he calls out hesitantly. “Sensei? Sig?”

 

Winry looks around the kitchen that they now find themselves in. No lights are on and dishes are piled in the sink. The only sound that greets them is the tap of water escaping a leaky facet.

 

“Ed, what’s going on?” She asks, walking close to his side, an unnamed fear keeping her voice low.

 

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is set in a grim line and he takes several purposeful steps to the door leading to the other room. They go through the door together, Winry keeping close to his back. Standing in the doorway in the living room is Sig Curtis. He looks at them and Winry can see a tired man beneath his usually stoic countenance. His clothes are wrinkled and his eyes are heavy lidded and bloodshot. It’s as if he hasn’t had the time or will to sleep or change his clothes in days.

 

“I called you in Resembool.”

 

“We weren’t there.” She immediately feels foolish for her response. Sig gives her a look that clearly says ‘I knew that.’

 

“She wanted to see you one last time.”

 

Ed makes a sound like a gasp and a choke got caught in his throat. Winry covers her mouth and looks around the room, as if the body of Izumi Curtis was going to suddenly appear and confirm her morbid suspicions.

 

Ed gulps and his voice is raspy and a little shaky when he says, “Is she….I mean… has she?”

 

“Not yet. Soon, though. You should go see her.” At that Sig takes a step away from the doorframe. Ed takes half a step, hesitates, and then bolts past Sig. Winry can hear his heavy footfalls disappear down the hall, hears them slow to a stop, then the sound of a door creaking open and quietly shutting.

 

Sig turns his attention toward her, “Aren’t you going to go with him?”

 

Winry shakes her head, “No, I think that he’d want to be alone with her.”

 

<+>

 

The first thing Ed thinks as he enters Izumi’s room is that all deathbed’s must feel the same, because he swears he’s felt this same heavy atmosphere too many times in his life. The window is open, letting a humid breeze flow through the room. A pan of cool water sits on the floor by her bed and rows of prescriptions line the nightstand. As quietly as possible, he makes his way to her bedside, where a well-worn stool has been conveniently placed. She is sleeping, perspiration beading along her too pale face, the only color is a trail of dried blood on the corner of her mouth. There is a towel draped across her forehead, and Ed reaches up to check it.  It is no longer cool and he pulls it off her head and carefully wipes the blood from her mouth.

 

Her eyes flutter open at the touch and search out his face. Ed can’t think of anything to say, so instead, he bends down and concentrates on re-wetting the cloth.

 

“You came.”

 

“…Yeah.” He squeezes out the cloth, watching the faint red cloud mix with the water.

 

“I’m glad. What kind of idiot apprentice doesn’t come to his master’s deathbed?”

 

“…” Ed freezes, his eyes shifting to the side, glancing at her through his bangs.

 

“Don’t look at me like that. We’ve known for a long while that this was coming.”

 

He dips the cloth in the water once more, squeezing out the excess; his voice is soft, barely more than a mumble, when he says, “Still doesn’t make it easy.”

 

“That’s true. Death is never easy, especially for the ones left behind. I think we both know that better than anyone.”

 

Ed has no response, his irritation growing with every word she says and his inability to cope with what is happening, again. Instead, he concentrates on folding the cloth, corner to corner, completely symmetrical just like his mother used to.

 

“For what its worth, Ed, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you have been left behind so many times. You’re still so young, so I can’t say it won’t happen again. You’ve just got to remember what I taught you. That we are all part of the all, and the all is-”

 

“Just shut up with that stupid crap!” The cloth is thrown across the room, hitting the wall and falling to the ground with two wet plops. “It doesn’t help any of this. How can you think like that? How can you make it all sound so impersonal?”

 

Izumi looks unimpressed with his out burst, not even blinking at his display. “Really Ed, yelling at a woman who’s at death’s door. You really are a brat.”

 

Ed’s breathing is the only sound in the silence. He stands by her bedside, not looking at her, hands clenched into fists. “…Why do you have to die, too? Why is everyone I love dying, and all at the same time?” His voice breaks on the last word, and he fights back tears as fiercely as any foe.

 

“There is no simple answer to that question.”

 

“I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish I’d never even heard of alchemy, that it didn’t even exist.”

 

This seemed to spark some reaction in the dying woman, and as she speaks, she props herself up and crosses her arms. “Well it does, and no amount of wishing is going to change that. So stop acting so much like a child. You know better than that. Honestly, and here I thought I could die in peace, knowing what a great man you had become.”

 

He finally turns to face her, and Izumi can see the tears held so controlled in his eyes. “I don’t care if I’m acting like a child! I don’t know….” He stops shouting here, but his breathing doesn’t even. “I don’t know how to take any of this! What’s adult? Should I act like you? Huh? Uncaring about the whole thing?” His admission weakens the damn holding back the tears, and a few slip out, unbidden.

 

“I’m not saying you should not care. Be sad if you will, morn, but don’t sully my death by wishing that we’d never met. To grieve for someone so deeply, must mean that one was truly loved, does it not? That kind of love is worth the pain, don’t you think?”

 

“…I guess, you still have things to teach me, yet, don’t you?”

 

“Ah. I can see I do. I haven’t got much time left, but you always were a quick learner. Let’s see what I can do.”

 

<+>

 

For two weeks Winry knew a semblance of piece.  Every day brought Izumi closer to her end, but though Ed was conscience of it, he never let his grief show in anyone’s presence. He’d rise with Sig in the morning and prepare a tray with Izumi’s breakfast and medication.  By the time Winry woke up, he would already be shut up in Izumi’s room, leaving her to clean up the breakfast dishes.

 

By afternoon, Izumi would rest while Ed exercised in the yard. Winry would watch. His graceful movements and cat-like agility mesmerized her. Plus it didn’t hurt that with every passing shirt-less session, she could admit more and more how beautiful he was. She’d watch how each muscle pulled and pushed with effortless fluidity. She admired how he could possibly jump so high and flip and tumble on the ground as easily as feather on the wind. She could barely even do a cartwheel without pulling a muscle.

 

After dinner on the third day, Izumi demanded to be let out of the house. In response, Ed spent his usual afternoon exercise time to rummage through the store. Winry watched with curiosity as he drug old pieces of wood and metal into a large pile. After several trips, he stood in front of the pile, nodded in satisfaction, and then clapped his hands together. There was a bright light, and once the spots cleared from her vision, Winry could make out the form of Ed standing in front of a well crafted and sturdy wheelchair.

 

From that day forth, every evening after supper, the four of them would take a walk. These were the best times, Winry concluded on the fourteenth day of their stay in Dublith. The crickets were chirping loudly and the sky was painted in shades of gold, red, and blue. They kept the setting sun behind them, and were able to relax in the evening’s waning heat. As usual, Ed was walking beside the chair, he and Izumi discussing alchemy as Sig silently pushed behind them. Winry followed close behind, watching them, not really understanding the conversation but letting the sight and sound carry her through the mystical, dreamlike state that dusk always provoked in her.

 

“-still think that my theory leaves less to be examined.” Ed remarked; his indignant tone crisp in the night air, snapping Winry’s focus on to him. Winry had heard tales of Rose’s sun god, and in this moment she couldn’t imagine him looking any less like Edward Elric. His skin was a healthy tan and his hair and eyes glowed in the golden light of dusk. His hair shined, the loose ends of his bangs sweeping around his handsome face with the moment of his steps. Steady, confident strides on two flesh and blood legs. His armed came up gracefully, waving away whatever reply Izumi had. Winry watched the outline of his muscles through his t-shirt, watched how the muscles of his biceps flexed and his shoulder blades pulled tight against the fabric.

 

Silence descended upon the group as it so often did. The kind of quiet only brought on when all is at peace. They came upon the hill that they usually stopped at to observe the sunset before turning back. Some decades ago someone had built on this hill and there were the remnants of a stone fence that she and Ed would sit on. Sig would push Izumi’s chair up to the fence, where she could rest her elbows and gaze down on the village, Sig standing ever stoically behind her. 

 

This night, though, as Ed and Winry took their usual spots on the fence, Izumi’s voice cut through the evening. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”

 

“Are you not feeling well?” Ed asked, concern evident in his voice.

 

“I’m a little tired this evening, that’s all. You two stay though. Enjoy the sunset together.”

 

Winry could have sworn she saw a bit of mischief in Izumi’s eyes as she looked at her after her last comment. Before she could confirm it though, the look was gone, replaced with her normal countenance. Sig turned her around and the two headed back home, Ed and Winry watching them go.

 

Only once they were out of sight did Ed face the setting sun. Sighing, he pulled one leg up and rested his chin on his knee. Interpreting his sigh as weary, Winry said, “Sometimes, it’s easy to forget she’s so sick. Its only reminders like that that make it so real.”

 

“It’s not that I forget…it’s just, the way we talk now, its like we’ve finally found the bond we were meant to have. No secrets, no disappointment and guilt, just understanding and friendship. I just know that I’m gonna loose that, and soon. I think about it all the time and I get so tired pretending that it doesn’t vex me. It’s so frustrating because I know that her wish is for me to not be plagued by her death, impending or passed already.”

 

“She just wants to leave knowing that it’s not going to shut you down and put another whole in your heart.” Winry said this with the utmost certainty as anyone who loved him wouldn’t want to leave him so broken.

 

“I know that. But I’m just not the kind of person who can just walk away from death so easily.”

 

“Its not like she wants you to skip along her funeral procession going ‘trala-la’. It’s okay to grieve, just don’t let it consume you.” Winry watched his lips pull into a small smile.

 

“Now you’re starting to sound like her. We talk about grief all the time and I believe she’s said the same thing you just said. More than once.”

 

“So that’s what you two do all morning? Talk about death? That’s pretty morbid.”

 

“No, that’s not all we talk about. We talk about other things.”

 

“Like?”

 

“Like life, and alchemy.”

 

“I thought alchemy was your life.”

 

“You’re not wrong. For a while it was, but it only became so because we always used it to try and fix our life. At first it was to make Mom smile, then it was to make her live again, and when that didn’t work out, we used it to try to wipe the whole slate clean again. I spent so much of my life trying to use alchemy to fix my life, that at a certain point I didn’t know how to live with out it.”

 

“But you do now?”

 

“I learned, yes. When Al and I first came home, well, you remember how restless I was.”

 

Winry laughed, “Yeah, I think you fixed every broken down cart, fence, and chicken coup in all of Risembool.”

 

“Yeah, well, Al was the one who pulled me out of it. Some nights we would just sit outside, under the sky and talk about all the things we could do with our lives now. He had so many dreams…”

 

Winry felt him slipping away into the grief of his memories as he trailed off. Trying to keep him talking she asked, “Like what.”

 

“He wanted to start studying medicine, he wanted to have a family, and he even mentioned opening a shop like Sig and Izumi.” At the last one Ed smiled. Winry was amused too; she could not picture Al as a butcher.

 

“And you, what were you dreams?”

 

“I didn’t really know, I still don’t know. I was too busy playing the secondary-lead character in Al’s dreams. The point is, the dreaming, it helped pull me out of the place I had lived for so many years, because not once was alchemy a part of any of Al’s dreams. Then he got sick, and we had already been down that road with Alchemy and well, you know what happened next.”

 

Yeah, she did. Just because he had already tried to save a life with alchemy before didn’t stop him from researching any kind of medical science he could get his hands on, be it alchemy, biology, or chemistry. All failed him, and Al still died.

 

Beside her, Ed straightened his leg and curled his hands around the ledge of the fence behind him, letting him lean back just slightly with the small amount of space provided. “I guess some of Al’s dreams were pretty good. The trouble is, the only plan I have for them involves him being at my side.”

 

“Hmm. Well, you have the brains to be a doctor. I can’t imagine you being a butcher or anything involving food, but you could have a bookstore. And I think you’d make a fun dad. And if you want, I could help you out.”

 

“Winry, are you offering to bear my children.” The smile on his face was positively wicked and Winry took a moment to think about what she just said. She blushed and Ed’s shoulders began to shake with laughter.

 

“That’s not what…You’re so-Urgh!” Not finding words, she punched his upper arm. His body swayed slightly to the left, but he didn’t stop chuckling. Winry was aware of the dangerous territory they were approaching. They had been mistaken for a couple before, but the subject was never brought up in the privacy of each other’s company.

 

“Yeah, I think I may need to find someone gentler to raise my children.”

 

“More like a battle-hardened Amazon warrior who can contend with your evil spawn.”

 

As their laughter died down, Winry found she was disappointed that they had so effectively curtailed the subject. She had an almost hazardous urge to explore that dangerous territory tonight.

 

“Although, Al always did like to travel, and, you are proving to be a decent traveling companion…Maybe your suggestion just might work.”

 

Winry looked to Ed. His posture was easy and relaxed, his eyes open and unguarded, and through them she could see the honesty there. It seems that she’s not the only one wanting to play with fire tonight. She sees the dare in his eyes, leans over, as natural as breathing, and lets her lips touch his.

 

There is a moment of awkwardness, and she fears that she was mistaken. She begins to pull back but before she can even put a centimeter between them, his hand is on her arm, ceasing all movement. The warm touch makes the evening chill that much more apparent and she can feel every callous on his fingertips and every breath he takes. Embolden by his actions, she leans in again and this time he meets her.

 

They are less awkward this time. He is tender in a way she never thought he could be with her. One hand comes up to rest on her waist, the other travels up her arm to tangle his fingers in her hair, the warmth leaving goosebumbs in it’s wake.  He pulls away and rests his forehead against hers and she takes a while to appreciate the perfection of this moment. Her first kiss with Edward Elric happened as the Sun went down. She shivers in the wake of his warmth.

 

“Are you cold?” He asks, his voice so soft to her ears even so close. She nods, the movement slightly awkward with their heads still touching. “Then we should get back.” He says, and after a moment - she is reluctant to let the moment end - she agrees.


End file.
